


The Twiranux Drabble Collection

by Twiranux



Category: Eleven Little Roosters (Web Series), Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Affection, Cognitive Dissonance, Coping, Dialogue Heavy, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drama, Foreplay, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Office, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Public Display of Affection, Sex Von Shaukel, Touching, Video & Computer Games, WWFH
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 00:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10865373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twiranux/pseuds/Twiranux
Summary: This is the official drabble series from me; It's one shots that didn't quite make the cut, or have become fleshed out enough but didn't quite reach my ideal finished product. Each chapter and (if any) its accompanying notes will indicate what each drabble is all about.





	1. Lawrence/Bruce/James WWFH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, you gonna fight or what?” Bruce snarls, trying to hide his grin as best he could.

A few clangs and creaks come out as James sets down the chairs, onto the floor, for a recording. Placing his hands to his hips afterwards, he takes a breath and then sighs. He turns his head, watching his co-workers make their way to their respective chairs, before finally sitting down on his chair.

“Hey, remember the--” James begins, his shoes making crunching sounds from grinding against small disk shards.

“Yep, I have them right here,” Lawrence speaks up, waving back and forth the controllers in his hand. He props himself down onto the front-most chair, where Adam usually sits for Demo Disk. He then fixes his glasses, sets down the two controllers to his left of him, and settles his hands onto the keyboard. 

James nods, bouncing his knee up and down. He grabs a controller, and fiddles with the joystick.

“Alright, I'm here...what are we playin’?” Bruce’s voice thunders from the other side of the room.

“WWE. And--to be honest, why don't we just wrestle in real life? It'd have way more hits than this series,” Lawrence admits, looking toward James, as he was the one with the idea.

“For starters, we'd have no cool costumes, I'd have to set out actual scripts and events, and the last time I saw you wrestle, Lawrence, Jack from Achievement Hunter had his shirt off and his face as red as his beard,” James explains, snapping in a sarcastic way.

Lawrence groans a little, as Bruce sits himself down onto his chair, right next to James. In contrast, Bruce happily picks up the other controller from the desk and keeps the smile on his face as he anticipates.

“Hey, Lawrence, you can fight me anyday,” Bruce chirps, almost causing himself to laugh. “Let's just sneak out the Twits and Crits' ones and fight in those, those are costumes.” The ridiculous nature of the thought makes Bruce wheeze a little.

“Oh really now?” Lawrence raises an eyebrow, shifting his gaze over to Bruce. James shakes his head, and crosses his arms.

Lawrence gets up, and approaches Bruce, who is still sitting down, gripping onto the sides of the chair in mock fear. He stands firm, towering over confidently, and then leans closer. 

“Well, you gonna fight or what?” Bruce snarls, trying to hide his grin as best he could.

Lawrence then places his hands onto the back of the chair, as he slouches a bit to have his eyes leveled with Bruce's. He touches Bruce's nose with his own, exhaling sharply.

“Get on with it, Lawrence,” Bruce heaves out, wrapping his arms around the back of Lawrence's neck. He then pushes himself forward, locking their lips. A soft groan escapes from Lawrence, while Bruce giggles. Bruce brings his hands upward, and runs them through the familiar jet black hair.

“Hold up, hold up! Referee intervening!” James shouts, as he forces his hands between the two and attempts to pull them away from one another. They manage to separate and then turn their heads toward James. He huffs aggressively, gripping onto both Bruce's and Lawrence's shirts.

“You two think this is just a one-on-one, huh? I'm here for the action too, y’know!” James snickers, as he eyes Lawrence up and down. 

He then tugs Lawrence's shirt roughly, pressing his lips onto Lawrence's. Lawrence couldn't help but smirk in response. James pulls away, letting go of his grip on Lawrence's shirt, and shifts his attention to Bruce. With a quick wink beforehand, James straddles Bruce; his hands on Bruce’s shoulders as he leans in for a kiss.

“Thank goodness we aren't live streaming right now,” Lawrence sighs out, as he wraps his arms around James’ neck.


	2. Sex Von Shaukel: Post Lars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dear boys, no need to fight...We do need some more appropriate...summer wear..." Wilhelm suggests, his other hand wandering down his neck and seductively lingers onto his chest. He then gasps and snaps himself out of it. “Even if it has been a while, we shouldn't let that stop us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Within this work there are subscript numbers accompanying German sentences and phrases. At the end of this work, there will be footnotes as to what each sub-scripted phrase translates to. Sorry in advance for any German readers if I got these translations wrong, I myself am not German.

Koko, Wilhelm, and Brüce are sitting around in a hotel room somewhere in Europe, and they notice their regular set of clothing. 

Koko, on the bed, sits with one of his legs crossed, his left hand resting on his right black combat boot. He looks down onto himself, and scrunches up his freckled nose.

"We've been wearing these outfits all tour long. In fact, all career long." Koko remarks, tugging at his loosely strung up mesh shirt. Many years of touring caused such damage, from touchy fans and the occasional scuffle during some assassinations. He fans himself with his hand, panting a bit.

"Bah, what are we supposed to do? These are our iconic attire!" Brüce counters, waving around his zebra patterned scarf. He turns his head suddenly, and huffs.

Wilhelm groans, resting his hand on his head. His hips thrust forward as he stretches his legs.

"Dear boys, no need to fight...We do need some more appropriate...summer wear..." Wilhelm suggests, his other hand wandering down his neck and seductively lingers onto his chest. He then gasps and snaps himself out of it. “Even if it has been a while, we shouldn't let that stop us.”

"But Wilhelm...the last time we went out and bought clothes was...Ach du liebe Zeit¹!” Brüce realizes.

"We can't let that get to us, darlings. Well...we can wheel out our precious mannequin boy if that helps," Wilhelm shrugs and points toward the general direction of said mannequin.

"But, it's not the same! Only he knows what he...used to like...--" Koko thinks aloud. 

Wilhelm gasps again, this time in response to Koko. He furrows his dusty eyebrows, and then walks himself to the Lars mannequin.

Everything from the hat, pair of glasses, and down to the unmistakable red pants and combat boots, had been miraculously restored, and since taken residence on a mannequin the Boyz take turns doing makeup on it; the same design and style that Lars wore. Brüce had the idea to add wooden, moveable arms, and implemented a rolling chair system to move it place to place. On the anniversary of their band’s conception, they would put the mannequin on stage alongside them. 

"Don't listen to him, Lars. You know how Koko has been since you've taken Heaven by storm; you beautiful boy, I hope you had a delightful rest. Let's go, and shop away. I promise we'll get you only the best!" Wilhelm rests his hands on the fluffy, black, fur coat, humming happily.

Koko put his hand close to his mouth, but decided last second not to bite at his nails.

"It will be okay! We all miss him... Once we figure out how to compile a voicebank of then Lars, we can put a speaker on current Lars, and it will be totally like he never partied on!" Brüce attempts to cheer up Koko, wearing a big grin.

"Yes sure, but I'd wish to just bring him back to life. That stupid Rooster organization isn't that technologically advanced to get it done? Wie schade²! I don't want an empty shell of what he was, I want the real him back!” Koko groans, getting up off the bed, and stomps out dramatically, walking himself into the bathroom.

"Koko, we are doing what we can! Please, all I asked for was one day of just us!" Wilhelm yells from across their whole unit.

Brüce paces to the Lars mannequin and looks down onto what they deemed to be the feet of the structure.

"Happy early 3rd Year of your Heaven Tour, Lars. We'll get you something special, we promise. Sorry we can't get ourselves to remind Koko. He's never been quite the same since,” Brüce whispers.

“Es tut mir Leid³...Lars. I try and try to be like you, our once gracious and sexy lead. Sometimes we get along, and other times we don't. But that is how it’s always been, with or without you. Gott lässt uns wohl sinken, Aber nicht ertrinken⁴.” James looks on the brighter side of things.  
"We're not saying that you passing wasn’t miserable, but we all know you would want us to keep going strong.” Brüce adds on. “Den Teufel nicht an die Wand malen⁵.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹: Oh dear! / Oh my goodness!  
> ²: What a shame!  
> ³: I am so sorry. / My [deepest] apologies. (Formal)  
> ⁴: Bitter pills may have blessed effects. || Meaning: Present afflictions may tend to our future good.  
> ⁵: Not to paint the devil on the wall. || Meaning: Don't assume something will go wrong when it is not certain.


End file.
